


Nothing but the Blood

by Space_Dementia



Category: True Blood
Genre: Alcohol, Childhood, Family, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other, Songfic, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Dementia/pseuds/Space_Dementia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpts from Tara's childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing but the Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Superkappa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Superkappa).



**  
_What can wash away my sin?_   
**

Once upon a time, Tara Mae Thornton was a raised to be a good, God fearing little church girl. She would wear little white dresses that had frill on the edges and little white leather shoes that squeaked when they accidentally knocked into each other when she ran in the roads. She loved that dress and those shoes. She loved waking up on Sunday morning and rejoicing in the day that the lord had made. Tara Mae Thornton loved Jesus. And most of all she loved her mama.  
 **  
 _Nothing but the blood of Jesus;_  
**  
Her mother signed her up for the childrens choir. Tara Mae didn't really have the best singing voice but she was the loudest. Her mother was there in the isles clapping her glove covered hands and swaying with the music. She looked so proud and that made Tara Mae's heart glad.  
 _  
_ ** _What can make me whole again?_**

Mama would take communion every Sunday, because she was God's special child. She kept the _blood of Christ_ in a dark, round, burgundy flask, and takes sips from it while everyone else was praying. Her mama smiles and sings along, but it's different.  
 **  
 _Nothing but the blood of Jesus._**

There are no more Sundays morning like their used to be. There is no more singing on the children's choir. Tara Mae's shoes are scuffed and broken beyond repair (not that her mother would waste the money to repair them). Now the blood is all that matters. Her mama needs it all the time now. She calls out for it in the middle of the day and sends her daughter out into the hot evening sun to find the blood.

No more pretty white dresses with the frills when her mother is laid up in bed, sick with need. So sick that none of the washing got done and Tara Mae had been sent out in a half slip and dirty undershirt to go get her mama another bottle from the liquor store.  
 ** _  
Oh! precious is the flow_**

They knew Tara Mae's name there.  
 _  
_ ** _That makes me white as snow;_**

They knew her mama's order.  
 **  
 _No other fount I know,_**

What she needed.

 **  
_Nothing but the blood of Jesus._   
**


End file.
